A tired-eyed man sits in a leather chair, gazing fixedly at the dancing flames of the fireplace, their reflections flickering across his weary countenance. He sighs deeply, his thoughts immersed in a web of intertwined concerns surrounding the imminent gathering of nobles. An oppressive weight rests upon his chest, a sense of apprehension weaving an intricate tapestry in his mind from which he cannot escape.

Firstly, the absence of some of the Southern Merchant Union nobles in the preparations casts a shadow of uncertainty over the horizon. He had counted on their presence to bolster his position, but now their absence creates a power vacuum, a gap of uncertainty that he finds himself compelled to confront. Questions echo in his mind, 'Have they received the message? Have they chosen to ignore it?'

Secondly, reports of peculiar behavior by the city guard, seemingly on orders from the crown prince, stir a whirlwind of unease. What could the heir be planning? Is he attempting to seize control of the situation, or is there a dark game unfolding behind the scenes?

And, most worrisome of all, the Duke of the West, who was supposed to be his staunchest supporter at the meeting, mysteriously decided at the last minute not to attend. This was a harsh blow, this unexpected turn casting a shadow of doubt over his chances of success. He wondered why the duke had changed his mind, what could have led to this sudden decision. What hidden forces could be at play, plotting against his interests?

Lost in his thoughts, the man is suddenly roused by a hoarse and familiar voice. The voice belongs to his father-in-law, Baron Lester. "Tiberios… Tiberios…" the baron calls, his voice restrained yet laden with urgency.

Count Tiberios, still somewhat dazed, lifts his head to meet the baron's gaze, filled with an intensity rarely seen. "Is it resolved?" Tiberios inquires, his voice tinged with restrained tension.

The baron does not respond verbally. Instead, he simply looks to the center of the room. Tiberios follows the baron's gaze and sees several men in the center of the room. Most of them are older men, corpulent, with white hair. They are engaged in vigorous discussion, their voices rising and falling in an almost musical rhythm.

The men are clustered around a large wooden table, upon which are spread various scrolls and maps. They gesture with their hands, point to the documents, and occasionally pound the table to emphasize a point. The discussion is heated, almost hostile.

One of the men, a gray-haired marquess with a robust physique, rises abruptly. He shouts, his voice echoing through the room, "It would be absurd to agree to such a high price for a mere representative of the Duke of the West!" Tiberios immediately recognizes the man. It is Marquess Attila Tu’Arua, the most powerful noble of the Southern Merchant Alliance. His territory, situated nearly at the kingdom's center and bathed by two of the main branches of the Xingu River, is one of the most productive in the entire kingdom.

As the echo of Marquess Attila's shout still resonates in the room, another voice rises. It is not a shout but a cold, lifeless voice, almost devoid of emotion. "I also believe that the price demanded by the Duke of the West for the help of his representative at the meeting is not worth it," says the voice. "The Southern Merchant Union already has more than enough power to sway the Royal Counselor's opinion in favor of the union."

Tiberios turns to see the owner of the voice. It is Klaus Jurandir, a corpulent baron with a gaze sharp as a knife. Unlike most present in the room, Klaus has a decadent physique. Though young, he is by far the fattest man among all the nobles present, yet everyone feels a sense of unease when listening to his lifeless voice, making everyone in the room uncomfortable. His territory lies on the peninsula on the kingdom's east coast, meaning that most of his wealth comes from trade by sea and the Xingu River's branches. This explains his aversion, as well as Marquess Attila's, to the agreement with the Duke of the West, as they stood to lose the most in this deal.

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The other nobles in the room, indignant at the two nobles' opposing response, begin shouting in disagreement. The room fills with loud and heated voices, each noble trying to make their opinion heard above the noise.

Tired of this needlessly long discussion, Tiberios rises. His voice cuts through the noise like a sharp blade. "The agreement is already sealed," he declares. His words are followed by a sudden silence. All eyes turn to him, and for a moment, the only sound that can be heard is the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

Then, the silence is broken by a cry of indignation. It is Marquess Attila. "Have you sealed an agreement with the Duke of the West without consulting us? With what authority did you seal this agreement, COUNT?" he asks, his voice echoing through the room. His cry is followed by an impressive release of aura from the path, a wave of energy that spreads through the room and causes great discomfort to most of the nobles who were unprepared for this development.

But Count Tiberios does not falter for a second under the pressure of the marquess's aura. He remains standing, his gaze firm and unwavering. He knew that the marquess, in his fit of rage, would surely disregard the nobility's rules of conduct and resort to intimidation. But Tiberios was prepared.

Amidst the chaos of the room, Count Tiberios rises, a pillar of steady serenity against the storm of Marquess Attila's indignation. His gaze sweeps the room, finding a mosaic of expressions, some enraged, others surprised. With a voice that, though calm, carries the undeniable weight of his authority, he responds:

"My esteemed colleagues, I understand deeply your concern. However, we must face reality with open eyes. The Southern Merchant Union, despite being an alliance of considerable power and undeniable influence, currently finds itself in a disadvantaged position to face the colossal challenge before us."

His eyes then fix on the map spread out on the table, where the noble territories that should have been present at the meeting are clearly visible but notably absent. "Observe," the count continues, pointing to the empty spaces on the map, "our allies, those whose support we counted on in this crucial meeting, have not shown up. Without their presence, our union significantly loses its bargaining power."

Addressing the crux of the issue that awaited them, he adds, "And as for the Duke of the South, our main adversary at this table, we must not underestimate his cunning. He did not raise taxes on a whim; he surely has a meticulously crafted plan to garner favor with the Royal Counselor."

After a brief moment of reflection, Tiberios proceeds: "Faced with these challenges, it was necessary to ensure the solidity of the agreement with the Duke of the West, even if it meant a high price, even if it was only for the representative. We need every advantage possible to face the Duke of the South and win the favor of the Royal Counselor."

As Tiberios, with his upright posture and penetrating gaze, lays out his arguments with unwavering eloquence, a shadow of discontentment falls upon Marquess Attila's face. It is evident in every line of his expression, in every furrow of his furrowed brow, and in the tightness of his lips.

Before he could articulate any objection, a voice echoed in the room, interrupting him at the height of his indignation. It was the deep and authoritative voice of Baron Lester. His voice, like distant thunder agreeing with Count Tiberios, echoed through the hall with an undeniable presence, silencing the murmurs and drawing all eyes.

The impact of his words was immediate and profound. One by one, other voices joined his, forming a symphony of agreement that echoed among the nobles present. They were voices linked to the Guato and Apurina houses, each adding their weight to Baron Lester's argument, like stones being added to a scale.

However, the final blow came from where it was least expected. Baron Klaus, hitherto an ally of Marquess Attila, broke his silence with a surprising turn. His voice, characteristically devoid of emotion, echoed in the room, but this time with a different tone. He agreed with Count Tiberios, admitting that since the agreement was sealed, it was futile to continue the discussion.

He then rose, his tall and imposing figure casting a long shadow in the room. Before leaving, he glanced at Count Tiberios and spoke with a seriousness that made the air in the room heavier "I only hope you are right." The Baron Klaus's somber and threatening tone resonated in everyone's minds, even without the manifestation of a path aura like the Marquess had done moments before.

The impact of this change in position was like a silent yet overwhelming wave. Attila suddenly felt isolated, his resistance weakening in the face of the convergence of opposing opinions. And so, with the discussion ended by Baron Klaus's departure, the room fell silent. The political showdown between the nobles of the Southern Merchant Union came to an abrupt end.